


A Progression of Sorts

by kiitos



Category: The Supersizers RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiitos/pseuds/kiitos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things progress and really it was inevitable</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Progression of Sorts

In between the fake moustaches and girlish protestation against admittedly hideous approximations of food, not to mention copious amounts of wine, champagne and ale – Giles Coren had become rather attractive. Which was odd. Not least because he was male, but also because he was Giles Coren; detestable critic and all round unpleasant angry person. But if the whole Supersizers experience has proved anything, it’s that Sue is rather capable of over-looking the flaws of a situation and focussing solely on the redeeming features. (Negating the effects of Cockerel comb with sizable flagons of ale for example.)

That said, this was Giles she fancied, Giles she pictured in bed and Giles she admired as he strutted in his costume, looking unfairly handsome and smirking like he knew it.

The thing is, she also knew him rather well by now and had actually been paying attention to the way he whimpered if she kissed him harder than normal due to whatever alcohol had been consumed, or the way his eyes went darker if she hit him, the way he sprang to follow her every command… despite his constant affirmation to the contrary. She had discovered over the course of filming the ridiculous programme than Giles Coren was a delightful little sub. And that was amusing, especially when he was angry. It was also one of those redeeming features she has the excellent ability to focus on.

It progressed eventually, at something of an alarming speed. After the champagne and the video diaries, to Giles falling into her room, all dark eyes and bare chest, on his knees of all places and looking at her with a strange kind of desperation. She had to admit the messy hair was a nice touch, as was the soft quiver of his lip when he tried to speak.

“Giles love.” She replied, sitting on the edge of her bed with her shirt (sleeping in a man’s shirt the unfortunate result of the evening’s excesses) riding low on her chest. “You’re drunk.” The fact that she was already parting her legs ever so slightly was irrelevant at this stage.

“And you’re really, really stunning.” He replied like it was perfectly fine for him to be inching forwards on his knees, breeches still in place and skin looking positively edible. Though, she admitted to herself, that could be a side-effect of the frankly awful dinner leaving her still hungry and apparently a little bit delirious.

She’d been on the receiving end of Giles’ drunken flirting so many times before, even a smattering of sober flirting when he was feeling brave and relaxed enough to do so. But this was different, his hands were on her thighs and he was looking up at her like he was seeking permission, she could nothing but nod.

And as he leaned in, tongue slowed by too much ale but still clever and sharp, she tangled her fingers into his hair and hissed through gritted teeth. “Good boy.”


End file.
